stevenixon, 
Soil yields to iron kiss,
Furrows carve lines in the earth,
Seeds dream of the sun.Sun warms weathered hands,
Old plow breaks the winter's hold,
Hope blooms in the till.Dawn paints the field gold,
Rhythmic creak of seasoned wood,
A farmer's silent prayer.Earth breathes a dusty sigh,
Turned and tilled, ready to give,
Life's cycle starts anew.Birdsong fills the air,
Worms wiggle, seeking their homes,
Fields dance in the breeze.#DailyHaikuPrompt - Till
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